A Second Chance Complete
by Dannyblue1
Summary: Crossover with BTVS. Angel goes to desperate lengths to get Cordelia back. (A/C)


**TITLE:** A Second Chance  
**AUTHOR:** Dannyblue  
**EMAIL:** **dannyblue2@yahoo.com**

**WEBSITE:** **www.http//www.geocities.com/dannyblue2/index.html**   
**FEEDBACK:** Yes, please.  
**ARCHIVE/DISTRIBUTION:** Anywhere, just drop me a note so I'll know where.  
**SUMMARY:** Crossover between _Angel_ and _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. Somewhat AU. Angel goes to desperate lengths to get Cordy back.  
**SPOILERS:** General _Angel_ spoilers up to "Sleep Tight". General _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ spoilers up to season 3.  
**PAIRING:** A/C  
**RATING:** R.  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own _Angel_ or _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_.  
**NOTE:** While this is a time travel story, it is **not** part of the "Time Trip" series.  


* * *

  
  
**PART ONE**  
  
_Sometime before "Birthday"._  
  
  
There was so much blood.  
  
It spread across the cement, an ever-widening pool made black by the darkness of the alley.  
  
The sticky warmth of it soaked through his clothes. Coated his hands crimson.  
  
For the first time in his un-life, the vampire hated the blood.  
  
"Cordy," Angel whispered, cradling her limp body closer to his own. His right hand was pressed against the gaping wound in her chest…a futile attempt to stop the blood. He could feel her heart still beating. Could feel her struggle to take another breath. And another. "Hang on, Cordy," he pleaded.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open, distant and unfocused as they tried to find his face in the darkness. "Angel," she gasped, voice faint, hoarse. "Hurts. H-hurts."  
  
Angel's eyes flooded with tears. A fist seized his quiet heart. Begged him to take her pain and make it his own.  
  
From far away, he could hear Fred weeping softly.   
  
Wesley yelled into the cell phone. Frantic as he demanded an ambulance be sent immediately.  
  
Gunn said every foul, profane word he knew, over and over again, an unceasing litany. Vaguely, Angel wondered who he was cursing. The demons that did this, and were now just dismembered parts scattered across the alley floor? The Powers that let it happen?  
  
Cordy's breathing faltered. As if, for an instant, her body forgot how.  
  
"Cordy," he pleaded. He pressed his hand harder to the wound. He had to stop the blood. "Please…"  
  
"Angel," she interrupted. Slowly, with great effort, she lifted her arm. Pressed her blood-wet fingers to his cheek. "Angel. Tell…tell Connor about m-me. 'Kay?" Her eyes begged.  
  
Angel's panic sharpened to a razor's edge. A knot lodged in his throat and, for a moment, he couldn't speak.  
  
"You can't…" he choked, voice trembling with desperation. "You _won't_ leave me. Cordy, please…" His voice broke, and he had to pause to swallow. "I love you."  
  
For a moment, the haze lifted from her gaze. Her beautiful, hazel eyes focused on his tortured face.   
  
"You…wh-what?"  
  
Angel held her closer, until their faces were only inches apart. He let the full depth of his love, the beauty and terror of it, shine from his eyes. "I love you, Cordy."  
  
And despite her pain, Cordy smiled. A small, serene smile, filled with joy and wonder.  
  
"I l-love you, too," she said.  
  
And Angel's heart broke. He'd loved her for so long. Longer than he even realized. Then, when he finally admitted the truth to himself, he was too afraid to act. Afraid his love would scare her away. That he'd lose her.  
  
All that time, wasted…  
  
_No!_ his mind cried. _What the hell are you thinking? It's not too late! There's still plenty of time. Plenty…_  
  
Suddenly, Cordy gasped. Her eyes widened. As if she'd just seen something startling. Terrifying. Or wonderful.  
  
Blood gushed from her wound, coated Angel's hand with more thick red.  
  
"Cordy?" Angel demanded, shaking her a little in his desperation. "Cordy!"  
  
He tried looking into her eyes. To hold her to him that way.  
  
But she was beyond seeing him anymore.  
  
Cordelia's eyes fluttered shut. Her hand slid from his cheek, left blood tracks behind. As her head sagged against his arm, the air left her lungs in one long, last exhalation.   
  
And, beneath his fingertips, her heart stilled.  
  
For one moment, Angel's mind refused to absorb what it meant. Then, the pain of the truth sliced through him.  
  
"No!" he groaned. He crushed his face to her neck. And the tears came.   
  
In the background, Fred's weeping became hysterical.  
  
"Dear Lord," Wesley whispered, voice thick with emotion.  
  
Gunn sobbed through his curses.  
  
For a moment, except for the sounds of their tears, all was still in the alley.  
  
Then, Angel threw his head back.   
  
And roared.  
  
In it was the growl of the beast. Fierce and angry. Murderous. Enraged.  
  
In it was a scream of human torment. Lost and hollow. Soul shredding. Heart ripping itself apart.  
  
The vampire's cry of grief was heard as far as 10 miles away. And even some too far away to hear it _felt_ it.  
  
At that moment, everyone and everything—man, woman, child, demon, animal—froze. And, in every one of them, something deep and primal shivered.  
____________________  
  
_Sometime after "Sleep Tight" in the original timeline._  
  
  
Angel heard Gunn enter his suite, but didn't bother to look back. He was too busy trying to find an empty space on his bedroom wall.   
  
True, it looked like sketches covered every inch, from floor to ceiling. But Angel knew there was an empty space there somewhere. There was always an empty space.  
  
He listened as Gunn paused in the doorway. No doubt taking in the scene.  
  
The vampire allowed himself a humorless smile. He remembered walking into Fred's room that first time. Seeing the tight, multi-colored scribbles all over her walls. He'd felt the way Gunn probably felt right now.  
  
Behind him, Gunn sighed. "Wes just called, man," he said.  
  
_Ah, there it is,_ Angel thought. Golden tacks (the kind Cordy had preferred) in hand, he started to affix the sketch to the wall.  
  
"Fred tried to keep him on the line, so you could talk to him maybe. But he was real quick hanging up. Probably thinkin' we'd try to trace the call."  
  
"Probably," Angel absently agreed. He stepped back, eyed his handiwork. Was it straight? It had to be straight.  
  
"He said Connor's okay. And he'd be sending stuff about once a month. You know? Pictures. Letters." Gunn paused before adding. "And he hopes you understand."  
  
"I do," Angel said. The prophecy. The father will kill the son. Wesley thinking Connor needed to be protected.  
  
Before…Well, _before_, he wouldn't have believed he could hurt Connor, no matter what some damned prophesy said.   
  
Times changed.  
  
Oh, he missed son. The missing had lodged, like a black ache, deep in his soul. A perfect twin to the other ache that ate away another piece every day. And, if he ever saw Wesley again, he'd snap him in half.  
  
But he also knew he hadn't been much of a father to his son since…  
  
And, no matter how much he hated the former Watcher right now, he knew Wesley would do everything in his power to make sure Connor was safe. And happy.  
  
After a long silence, Gunn sighed again. "Just thought you should know," he said before he left the suite.  
  
Angel glanced at the empty doorway. They were worried about him. Fred and Gunn. Even Lorne probably couldn't read his murky aura. They all wondered, was this some extreme form of grief? Something he'd eventually snap out of? Or was he losing his mind?  
  
And he could have told them. His mind started to unravel that night in the alley. And he knew it wasn't going to stop.  
  
It was strange how calm he was, Angel knew. This wasn't the first time his mental health had gone on vacation (as Cordy would say). In the past, he would fight against it. Or deny it. But, this time, he just…accepted it.  
  
But even he hadn't known how far gone he was until last week. While on patrol, he followed a youngish vampire, the scent of a kill still fresh on it, into a warehouse.  
  
It seemed like only moments had passed. It wasn't until Angel left the warehouse that he realized he'd been inside for over an hour. He had to concentrate to remember how he spent the time.  
  
Torturing the fledgling. Asking it questions it couldn't answer. ("Why did they take her from me?" "Are they _that_ determined to make sure I'm never happy again?" "Why not me? Why her?")   
  
He finally dusted the young vampire out of its misery.  
  
Angel still found it hard to remember that hour. Which was why he was almost grateful Wesley took Connor away.  
  
Angel stared at the latest sketch. In this one, Cordy was dressed the way the women in his time dressed. Long, flowing dress. Hair swept up. Smiling coyly from behind a fan.  
  
Next to it was a sketch of the first time he met her. In Sunnydale. Before he realized how important she would become to him.  
  
The next was pure imagination. Cordy, lying naked in his bed, the blankets draped across her body. Her face lost in the throes of passion.  
  
Hundreds of sketches. Floor to ceiling. All of her.  
  
The pain of her loss struck him like a fresh blow. And he realized for the thousandth time—almost as bad as the first—that she was gone. He'd never see her smile again. Hear her voice…  
  
Angel stumbled backwards, sat heavily on the edge of the bed. Closed his eyes and let the pain of it crash over him. Strip him to the bone.  
  
These were the moments when he wanted to end it. Plunge a stake into his own heart. Walk out into the morning sun.   
  
But he wouldn't. Because, if there was any justice in the universe, his Cordy was in heaven. A paradise that wouldn't take a soul as soiled as his.  
  
He couldn't even be with her in death.  
____________________  
  
The demon bar was far removed from Caritas. The wood floor was scarred, the ceiling fans covered with dust. The mirror behind the bar was covered with cracks, one of which looked a great deal like a bullet hole.   
  
Angel sat in a booth, a watered down beer untouched on the table in front of him. Scoggs was late. Again.  
  
Angel closed his eyes, rubbed his aching forehead. Frustration sat like a weight between his eyes. He was tired of patience.  
  
As his eyes drifted open, they fell on the two human women who'd been watching him for the past half hour. Women who came to places like this for the dangerous thrill of it all. Whose smiles were brittle, cynical invitations.   
  
They stared, whispered. Wondered if they should approach him.  
  
But it seemed he was too dangerous a thrill even for them.  
  
"Hey, Angel, man," a jovial voice said from behind him.  
  
Angel turned to glare at the owner of that voice. "You're late, Scoggs."  
  
"Traffic." The v'kor demon shrugged.   
  
Impatient, Angel stood. "Do you have it?"  
  
"Hey, not here," Scoggs whispered. The creature's suspicious, orange eyes darted around the bar. "Outside."  
  
Sighing, Angel followed the v'kor to the exit. At times like this, he missed Merl.  
  
Scoggs lead Angel out to the alley.   
  
_Of course,_ the vampire thought. _If my life isn't ending in an alley, it's beginning in one._  
  
Angel reached into his duster's inner pocket. Pulled out a manila envelope thick with hundred dollar bills. "Here's the money."  
  
"Good," Scoggs said. He held out one scaly, four-fingered hand. "Consider it a down payment."  
  
Angel froze, every inch of him as still as stone. His eyes grew as cold as black ice. As empty as a well. "What?" he said, that one word devoid of any emotion.  
  
Scoggs took one quick, nervous step back. But the little demon was determined.  
  
"See, here's how it is. I recently found out how rare and valuable the item you wanted me to…_acquire_ really is. And the way you were jonesing to get your hands on it…" Scoggs's smile was sly. "Well, it occurred to me. Someone who wants something as much as you want this shouldn't mind payin' an extra…5 thou?"  
  
Still. Eyes cold and empty. "Where is it?"  
  
"Like I'd bring it with me!" Scoggs scoffed. "It's somewhere safe. And you'll get it, as soon as you come up with the extra cash."  
  
For one long moment, Angel studied the demon. His eyes traveled from the top of Scoggs's head, to his worn shoes, and back again.  
  
Scoggs started to fidget. For a second, he almost backed down. But he reminded himself he had the upper hand. He had what Angel wanted. Besides, everyone knew the vamp with a soul didn't go around beating on just anybody. Only dumb asses who tried to fight him. Or threatened some weakling human.  
  
Confidence restored, Scoggs held his ground.   
  
"Fine," the vamp said. And he held out the envelope.  
  
Scoggs was a little startled. Most of the marks he tried this on argued a little before giving in. Then again, Angel was different from most of his clients.  
  
The demon stepped forward to take the money.  
  
In a blur of motion, Angel was right there, less than an inch away. Powerful hands grabbed the sides of the demon's head. Twisted sharp and quick.  
  
A sickening CRACK shattered the relative quiet of the alley.  
  
As Scoggs's body dropped to the ground, Angel put the envelope back in his pocket. Then, he knelt down and searched the demon's clothes. It didn't take long to find what he was after. The v'kor was an excellent thief, but a terrible liar.  
  
Angel held his prize up to the light. Head tilted to one side, he studied the amulet as it swung at the end of its chain. Polished silver glowed in the moonlight. The crystal jewel in the center sparkled with red fire.  
  
Angel nodded. "Cordy would've liked this," he decided.  
____________________  
  
The house seemed so average. A house where papers were tossed on the front porch every morning, and Girl Scouts came to sell cookies. Where teen-aged boys mowed the lawn every Sunday afternoon.  
  
But Angel's vampire senses knew there was nothing normal about this place. The mortar between the bricks glowed with a faint, preternatural light. The tint of magic danced in the air from the mailbox at the front to the fence at the back. And a smell, mostly neutral, but with a touch of malevolence, drifted from the windows.   
  
Angel rang the doorbell, and expected to wait. She enjoyed doing things like that when she sensed impatience. Frustration.  
  
But the door was answered almost immediately.  
  
"Angel!" Rita exclaimed, smile wide and welcoming. Rita seemed to fit the neighborhood perfectly. She looked like a retiree, gray and wrinkled, but still fit and active. All that was good and kind.  
  
You had to look close to see the hint of malice in her eyes.  
  
"What a surprise it is to see you so soon," she continued. Then, she cocked her head. Listened to a voice only she could hear. "Only it isn't, is it?"  
  
Angel held up the amulet. "I have it," he said instead.  
  
"Of course you do," Rita nodded. And there was a touch of greed in her smile. She took a step back. "Come in."  
  
Angel felt a slight tingle as he passed through the doorway.   
  
"Would you like something?" she asked as she led him to the living room. "Coffee? Tea? Pig's blood?"  
  
"No," Angel said. He just wanted to get this done.  
  
"Very well," Rita said. She sat down on a sofa that had a quilt tossed over the back. "Have a seat, and we'll go over the particulars…"  
  
"I know the particulars," Angel interrupted, his impatience rising now that he was so close.  
  
"Let's go over them again," she snapped, her eyes as hard as steel. Then, she smirked. "Unless you want to try to find the only other sorcerer on this continent who can make your little bauble work."  
  
With a sigh, Angel sat.  
  
"Okay, then. As you know, I expect payment before I render my services."  
  
Angel tossed the second envelope he'd brought with him tonight, this one white, on the coffee table.  
  
"Good. Now, there's only about a fifty percent chance of this working at all. This is some tricky magic you're dealing. Which is why smart magic wielders steer clear." She shrugged. "Usually.'  
  
"It'll work," Angel said. It had to. That hope was the only thing holding him together. If he failed, he'd be even more lost than he was now. And he didn't know what he would do.  
  
"And this isn't an exact science," Rita continued. "Not with the farjahn. I know you're only hoping to go back a few months. But you could end up as much as 25 years before you wanted."  
  
"I'll wait," Angel said.  
  
Rita cocked a brow at the certainty in his voice. "Lucky girl," she said with a nod. "Last, but not least, I'm not perfect. The tiniest mistake, and you could end up stuck between times. Neither here nor there, but somewhere in between. For the rest of your very long life. Which will seem like a second and forever all at the same time. Your being so scattered, you won't be _you_ anymore. Just random feelings and memories and thoughts." The suburban sorceress shivered. "Not a nice place to be."  
  
Angel tried to decide if the prospect of being stuck in unending limbo bothered him. Where he wasn't him anymore. Every thought so disconnected from the rest, it didn't make sense or have meaning.   
  
He _knew_ it should bother him. Fill him with uncertainty. But he felt no fear. No doubt. Just pain. An ache that burned and throbbed…and never stopped.  
  
"I can't live in a world without her in it," he finally said. It was as simple as that.  
  
And Rita's eyes softened. The malice dimmed. For an instant. "Then let's begin."  
___________________  
  
The basement was proof that this was the home of a sorcerer.   
  
The black walls drank in every drop of light, turned them into shadows. The bones of countless creatures, from this dimension and others, hung from the ceiling.   
  
Angel stood in the center of a red pentagram. He could smell the blood in the paint.  
  
Rita was holding the farjahn over a cauldron that burned with lavender fire. Chanting in a language he couldn't hope to understand.  
  
Jaw clenched tight, Angel waited. Just as he'd been waiting since that night.  
  
Finally, Rita approached him.  
  
"This will go back with you." She handed the amulet to him. "You don't have to have it with you at all times. But keep it in a safe place. If, somehow, the crystal is damaged, the mind you've displaced—the _you_ that belongs in whenever you end up—will reassert itself. The _now_ you"—she grinned—"will be cast out. And have to go through all the stuck-between-times nastiness."  
  
"Got it," Angel said. He wrapped the chain around his left hand, until the pendent was tucked into his fist.   
  
"Then let's get started." She took the hand that held the pendent. And her eyes began to glow. "_Through the gate. Across the spans of time. Find the one you seek. Through the void. Across the bridge between forevers. Find the one you seek._"  
  
Bursts of electric blue exploded from his left hand.   
  
Rita dropped his hand. Took a quick step back.  
  
The energy engulfed his fist. Shot up his arm. Crawled around his body. Skimmed his flesh like a neon snake. An endless spiral of living energy.  
  
Angel cried out. It was like a million electric shocks, striking his skin all at once. He could see the smoke rising from his clothes. Could hear his borrowed blood sizzle.  
  
Lungs that didn't need air tried to breathe. A still heart tried to beat.  
  
The buzz of electric current filled the basement.  
  
"_Through the mists!_" Rita called over the noise. "_Across the path of your yesterdays. Find the one you seek._"  
  
Angel collapsed onto the cement floor, in the center of the pentagram.  
  
Rita barely had time to notice that the amulet was gone from his hand…  
  
…Before the vampire turned to dust.  
  
As silence descended over the basement, she stared sorrowfully at the remains of the first client she'd liked in far too long.  
  
"Good luck," she said.  
____________________  
  
Angel crashed to the ground.  
  
"Angel!" a young, feminine voice cried. "Oh, my God! Are you okay?"  
  
Gasping for air he didn't need, Angel pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. The pain was gone. But the memory was still there, still sharp. Of the energy, clawing at his eyes. Trying to dig into his bones.  
  
"Angel?" A pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders.  
  
The amulet clutched in his left hand, Angel forced his head up. And stared into a pair of green eyes.  
  
"Buffy?" he asked, confused.  
  
"Are you okay?" the Slayer repeated. "Because, one minute, you were walking. And, the next, you just, sort of…collapsed." She frowned. "Do vampires faint?"  
  
Still disoriented, Angel gave his head a hard shake.  
  
Where was he?  
  
Before he could begin to answer his own question, he heard a scream.  
  
His head whipped towards the sound. "Cordy?" he whispered. And the ache that pounded through him was more powerful than any heartbeat.  
  
In an instant, he was up and running. Barely aware that Buffy was right behind him.  
  
In what felt like forever, but was only a few seconds, he burst through the stand of trees, and into a clearing.  
  
In time to see a vampire, fangs bared, grabbing Cordelia.  


* * *

  
  
**PART TWO**

  
  
Angel froze. Although he didn't need to breathe, he felt like he was suffocating.  
  
It was Cordelia. His Cordy. Alive and whole. No gaping wound in her chest, draining her life away. No blood drenching her clothes.  
  
For a moment, he was overwhelmed. The emotion was so beyond happiness, so beyond hope or relief or need, that he couldn't move. Couldn't believe.  
  
Then, the vampire put its filthy hands on her.   
  
The demon emerged with a snarl that was pure beast. Fangs bared, eyes glinting amber, Angel bounded across the clearing. His duster whipped around his legs.   
  
The vampire was so focused on the struggling form of Cordelia Chase, it didn't realize it was in danger. Until Angel slammed into it. The force of his rage sent the creature sailing through the air. It crashed into a tree, then dropped to the ground, stunned.  
  
Cordelia, abruptly released from the vampire's hold, stumbled backwards, and fell into the grass.  
  
The vampire forgotten, Angel hurried towards her. Donning his human face, he knelt at her side.  
  
"Cordy," he whispered. And his hungry gaze drank her in. The beautiful face that graced his bedroom walls from floor to ceiling. The hazel eyes that haunted his dreams. The lips that could light his entire existence with a simple smile.  
  
Angel's body strained towards her. Strained to wrap around her, and feel that she was really there in front of him. To feel her breath on his neck and know that she was…  
  
Alive.   
  
But an inner voice warned against it. And, as he continued to study her, he realized why.  
  
Her hair was long and loose, and reached just past her shoulders. Her expression was colder, more closed, than he was used to it being. She looked younger…  
  
Now, Buffy's presence made more sense. And he had some idea of where and _when_ he was.  
  
"Why don't you take a picture?" Cordelia snapped. "Geez!"  
  
And Angel realized he'd been staring at her for longer than was normal.   
  
"Sorry," he said. He looked away from her, but only for a moment. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her for longer than that. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Well, I'm not dead." She rolled her eyes. "But the grass stains are never coming out of these pants. And I _just_ bought them!"  
  
She sounded like the spoiled, self-absorbed brat everyone believed her to be. Like the stains on her pants were more important than being attacked by a vampire.  
  
But Angel could hear the fear she didn't want anyone to see. In the frantic pounding of her heart. The slight hitch in her breath.  
  
Standing, Angel held his hand out to her.  
  
For a moment, Cordy seemed insulted by the gesture. Then, with a haughty "Hmph!" she took his hand, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.  
  
Angel was mesmerized by the feel of her hand in his. So warm and familiar. And real.  
  
It had been so long since he'd been able to touch her. Months that felt like years. Like forever.  
  
When she pulled her hand out of his, he almost didn't let go.  
  
"Thanks," she grumbled. Then, she glanced at some point over his shoulder.  
  
Angel turned and saw Buffy fighting a trio of vampires with her usual strength and skill. Even as he watched, one of them turned to dust, floated away on the evening breeze.  
  
Beyond her stood Willow and Xander. They watched their friend fight, a mixture of admiration and worry on their young faces.  
  
For a moment, Angel considered helping the Slayer with the two remaining vamps.  
  
Then, he heard a groan.   
  
A frown crinkling his intense brow, Angel turned to glare at the vampire that had dared to touch Cordelia. The creature had recovered from its collision with the tree, and had staggered to its feet.  
  
Teeth clenched, Angel stalked towards the vampire. Reaching into the folds of his coat, he found a stake. And a…  
  
An eerie smile shadowed Angel's lips as he pulled out the dagger.   
  
"This'll do," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.  
  
As Angel approach, the vampire growled a low warning. When Angel didn't stop, it bared its teeth and lunged.  
  
The first cut was a slash across its collarbone.  
  
Many more followed, in quick succession.  
  
A stab to the rib cage.  
  
A gash across the left eye.  
  
Angel moved with the grace of a seasoned killer. Cut with the precision of a surgeon one moment. Then, the ragged anger of a beast craving destruction the next.   
  
Angel's grief and anger and frustration were like a rain of razors, showering down on the hapless vampire, flaying its skin from its flesh. At first, the vampire tried to fight. But soon, as Angel hacked away at its cold body, all it could do was howl in pain. Hold up its hands to try to protect itself from the next incision. And howl a little louder when its fingers were severed.  
  
Angel didn't hear those howls. His mind was too filled with visions of this thing grabbing Cordelia.  
  
Of Cordelia sticking her tongue out at him.  
  
Of Cordelia holding Connor.  
  
Of Cordelia's body, lying limp and bloody in his arms.  
  
When the vampire fell to the ground, Angel straddled its waist. Continued to stab and slash. Until the creature was mostly still, an occasional whimper issuing from its bloodied lips.  
  
Finally, Angel pulled out the stake. Plunged it into the vampire's heart. Nodded with satisfaction…and regret (it still hadn't suffered enough) as it turned to dust.  
  
Taking a deep, unneeded breath, Angel stood. Turned.  
  
And found Cordelia staring at him. Hazel eyes wide with shock…horror. Mouth agape.  
  
As Angel realized what he had done, the viciousness she had just seen, his still heart sank. Forgotten, the bloodied dagger fell from his fingers. The blade stabbed the earth at his feet.  
  
"Cordy," he whispered. He took a step towards her.  
  
And flinched when she took a step back.  
  
"You guys okay?" a feminine voice interrupted.  
  
Pulling his eyes away from Cordy, Angel turned to look at Buffy. The Slayer jogged towards them, brushing dust from her jacket. And the others were close behind.  
  
"Cordy?" Xander asked. "You alright?"  
  
Cordelia stared at Angel a few moments longer, a dazed look in her eyes. Then, with a hard shake of her head, she turned to look at Xander. "Yeah, I'm fine." Then, her dazed expression turned into an irritated frown. "But these pants are _ruined_!"  
  
"Yeah, 'cause that's what's most important. Not the fact that we were all, for example, almost _eaten_!"  
  
"Oh, please." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Those vamps are dust. Problem solved. But the stains are _never_ coming out of these pants."  
  
Angel watched the two of them bicker. Noticed how close they stood to each other. Watched Xander place his hands on her shoulders. And she made no move to pull away.  
  
The two of them were dating then.  
  
Even as the knowledge awakened something dark and stinging in the center of his chest, Angel used it to narrow down exactly _when_ he was. This must be their senior year. After his return from hell, but before Spike came back to Sunnydale.  
  
"What are you guys _doing_ here, anyway?" Buffy demanded, splitting a glare between Willow, Xander, and Cordelia.  
  
"Well, Oz is rehearsing with the band tonight," Willow explained. "And I've got all my homework done for the next two weeks."  
  
Xander continued. "And all that's playing at the movies are heartwarming dramas, and sweet romantic comedies. You know. Girly stuff." He frowned in disgust. "And, since we had nothing better to do…"  
  
"Um, hello," Cordy interrupted. "_I_ wanted to check out that new juice bar-slash-dance club. But I got out-voted." She crossed her arms and sighed. "Again."  
  
"Anyway," her boyfriend continued. "We decided to come help out with the slaying. And since you said you'd probably patrol here first, here we are."  
  
Angel studied the three of them. He'd forgotten how…eager Buffy's friends had always been. So eager to help her, to ease her burden, they often ended up putting themselves in danger. From which she had to save them.   
  
"Well, you guys shouldn't have come," Buffy said. "I mean, what if we went somewhere else first? Then who would've saved you when those vamps attacked?"  
  
"Hey, we could've handled it," Xander said…but didn't explain how.  
  
"Um, yeah," Willow half-heartedly agreed. "See?" and she held up a stake.  
  
"Hmph," Cordy snorted.  
  
It was such a familiar sound, Angel couldn't help but smile. For the first time in too long, his soul felt something besides ice cold.  
  
"Well, you're here now," Buffy sighed. "So…"  
  
"Let's get with the patrollin'" Xander said, casually tossing one arm around Cordy's shoulders.  
  
A long, silent growl rumbled in Angel's chest. And he imagined how good it would feel to rip that arm off.  
  
As the gang moved to follow Buffy, Cordy glanced in Angel's direction…then quickly looked away.  
____________________  
  
With an exasperated sigh, Cordy stomped through the overgrown grass. She hoped her body language made it obvious how _not_ happy she was to waste a Wednesday night traipsing through creepy cemeteries and empty parks.  
  
Folding her arms tight, she refused to shiver at the chill breeze that cut through her flimsy jacket. No way would she admit—even by shivering—that Xander and Willow had been right when they said she needed something warmer. No way!  
  
Not that there was anyone to _see_ her shiver. Buffy, Willow, and Xander—the original Three Musketeers—had moved ahead. They were now gossiping about the latest rumor to hit Sunnydale High. Something about Miss Hildebrand, leather…and tattoos.  
  
Cordelia, of course, had been left to lag behind with the most un-talkative member of their wacky little band…who was walking about four steps behind _her_.  
  
Was he really staring at her? Because she had that stomach tickling, flesh tingling feeling that someone was staring at her. And he was the only other someone there.  
  
Of course, it was probably her imagination. That, combined with what she'd seen. The slice and dice he did on that vamp…  
  
This time, she couldn't hold back her shivers.  
  
"You're cold."  
  
Cordy was so startled to hear him talk, she jumped a little. She was even more startled to find he was walking right next to her. Much closer than she'd realized.  
  
"Here," he said, as he took off his coat.  
  
"What?" Cordy yelped, eyes widening at his actions. "No, I'm fine."  
  
"You're cold," he insisted. "I can feel you shivering." Not giving her a chance to protest further, he draped his duster over her shoulders.  
  
And it felt like his hands lingered longer than necessary. Like his fingers pressed into the flesh of her shoulders...  
  
But that was probably her imagination, too.  
  
For a moment, Cordy was too stunned to do anything but stare at him.  
  
Angel stared back, expressionless. But there was this weird determination in his eyes. And Cordy suddenly knew, for a fact, that he wouldn't take the coat back.  
  
The coat that was oddly cool against her body. Easy to understand since the guy who'd been wearing it didn't have a body temperature. But it kept out the chilly breeze that had been responsible for her shivers.   
  
Cordy allowed herself a mental shrug. Okay, so Angel giving her his coat felt a little weird. But she felt a hundred percent warmer. So, why argue?  
  
"Um, thanks," she said as she quickened her pace.  
  
She didn't hear him fall into step behind her. He was really good at that whole stealth thing. But she could feel him there. Like a weight against her back.  
  
And, this time, she definitely couldn't blame her shiver on the cold.  
  
Cordy had seen her share of vamps get dusted. In some pretty unusual ways. But what Angel did earlier. She was sure he could have dusted that vamp in 5 seconds flat if he wanted to. Instead, he…  
  
Well, that hadn't been a typical slaying. It had seemed more like punishment. Like…torture.  
  
Maybe it was the way he always did it, and she just hadn't noticed before. And, after all, he _was_ a vampire. Should it really surprise her that he, maybe, enjoyed killing? That he would turn it into, well, an art, almost.  
  
After all, not many vamps were as sickly creative as Angelus had been.  
  
_I wonder if my mom's therapist is looking for new patients,_ Cordy thought. Half joking.  
  
Half not.   
____________________  
  
Angel couldn't take his eyes away from her. Had to push his hands into his pockets just to assure he wouldn't grab her. Wrap himself around her. Pres her to the length of him.  
  
He had to remind himself that this wasn't _his_ Cordy. This wasn't the woman who encouraged his hugs. Who gave him a hundred comforting touches every day. Who didn't cringe away when _he_ touched _her_.  
  
To this Cordelia Chase, he was a virtual stranger. One she was a little afraid of.  
  
Angel's still heart clenched in his chest. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. He wanted her to…  
  
Angel cursed himself for killing the vampire the way he did. In front of her. But, at the time, all he could think about was the vampire's hands on her. And hurting it as much as possible before letting it die.  
  
He just wished Cordy hadn't seen. Hadn't been so horrified by his actions.  
  
It would make things that much harder.  
  
Angel moved closer to her. So close, he could feel the heat of her body against his skin. Wearing his coat, she was surrounded by his scent. And the smell of her scent mixed with his was…intoxicating.  
  
"I think that's it, guys," the Slayer's voice said.  
  
Cordelia halted suddenly.  
  
Angel stopped half a second later. But not soon enough to stop his chest from being pressed against her back.  
  
Before he could enjoy the moment of delicious contact, Cordy gasped and took a startled step forward.   
  
"This place is as dead as everywhere else," Buffy continued. Apparently, she, Xander and Willow had stopped to wait for him and Cordy. Angel had been too lost in his own thoughts to notice.  
  
"It looks like most of the vamps are on vacation," Xander quipped.  
  
"I guess," Buffy agreed. And she turned.  
  
Angel knew the exact moment when she saw Cordy wearing his coat. Her body stiffened. Her eyes widened. A confused frown clouded her expression.  
  
Angel calmly waited for her to ask. And wondered what he would say. After all, at this point in his life, he'd loved Buffy to the exclusion of everything else. He would've done anything to keep her from doubting him in any way.  
  
But that wasn't who he was anymore. So, how much of that part was he willing to play?  
  
"I got cold," Cordy said into the silence.  
  
Which, from the look in the Slayer's eyes, wasn't enough of an explanation.  
  
"Hey!" Xander said indignantly. "I would have let you wear my jacket, Cordy. All you had to do was ask."  
  
"Oh, right. And you would've spent the night making me feel guilty for letting you freeze to death. I don't _think_ so." She shrugged out of the duster, handed it to Angel without looking at him. "Thanks," she mumbled.  
  
"Yeah," Angel said…watching with sad eyes as she hurried to her boyfriend's side.  
____________________  
  
Cordelia sat on the edge of her bed, and ran a towel through her wet hair.   
  
It had been a freaky night. Freakier than usual. First, she was almost killed by a vampire. Then, Angel…  
  
Almost instinctively, Cordy's mind started to deal. It was something she was really good at. So good in fact that, by tomorrow morning, it would all be a distant memory. A waste of time to bother thinking about.  
  
So, a vamp tried to make her his first meal of the night. If she kept going on freak patrol, it wouldn't be the last time _that_ happened.  
  
So Angel had killed said vampire with more enthusiasm than she was used to. What mattered was that the vamp had been dusted…before it got the chance to take a bite out of her. That was all that mattered.  
  
As for Angel giving her his coat, the guy was born over 200 years ago. All that chivalry stuff was probably second nature to him.   
  
Nodding at the satisfying perspective she'd put everything into, Cordy stood and went to the window. She reached out to close the curtain…and gasped.  
  
For a moment, a fraction of a second, she thought she saw someone. Standing there, near the trees. Moonlight sparkling in their eyes as they gazed up at her window.  
  
But there was no one there now. If there ever had been.  
  
A chill racing up her spine, Cordy pulled the curtain closed.  
  
"It was probably…just a shadow."  


* * *

  
**PART THREE  
**  
  
Angel stood in the shadows of the towering pine tree, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his duster. Eyes gazing upward, hungry for another glimpse of her.  
  
_Come back,_ an inner voice begged, longing for her to hear him. _Please._  
  
But the curtains remained shuttered against the night.  
  
Angel closed his eyes. Took one deep, unneeded breath after another. He was so close. Nothing separated them but a stretch of moonlit lawn. A pane of glass that would shatter with one blow.   
  
He was so far away. Because he'd never been invited inside. And that barrier, stronger than brick or steel, made it impossible for him to go to her.   
  
Eyes still closed, he turned his face up to the moon. Again and again, his mind replayed the few brief touches they'd shared.  
  
Holding her hand as he pulled her to her feet. Fingers squeezing her shoulders as he draped his coat around her body. Chest pressed against her back. The warmth of her against him. So brief. But more than he'd had in forever.  
  
After so long—without her hugs, and pats on his arm, and pecks on his cheek—he should be happy with the impossible. She was alive and whole. So close, he could taste her in the air. And that should be enough. Shouldn't that be enough?  
  
Instead, impatience thrummed through his body. Clawed at his skin from the inside. Made his teeth itch. Squeezed his un-beating heart until, for the first time in 250 years, he knew what it was like to suffocate.   
  
Jaw clenched, he rubbed that spot between his eyes. He wanted to feel her. All of her. Against him. Through him. Inside him. Wanted to bury himself inside _her_, and forget what it was like to miss her so much, every muscle ached with it. To feel his heart shredding, and know it would never stop.  
  
_Fuck_ waiting. _Fuck_ patience.   
  
Now!  
  
"Angel."  
  
His eyes snapped open.   
  
And she was there. Bathed in moonlight. Hair, made black by the night, cascading around her shoulders. Silk white nightgown draping her slender curves. Glowing silver blue.  
  
Smiling that smile that had been ripped away from him, leaving emptiness and pain behind.   
  
Her hazel eyes no longer looked at him like he was some distant stranger. These were eyes that knew him. More deeply, more completely than anyone had before.   
  
"Cordelia," he whispered, unable to believe she was really there.  
  
"Angel," she repeated. And her smile grew even warmer. Her eyes more knowing.  
  
He growled with anticipation and need. And she didn't flinch away.   
  
She didn't retreat when he lunged towards her. Didn't recoil when he took her in her arms, hands clutching at her gown, roving across her body. Didn't struggle when he put his hands to her head, powerful hands clenching her hair in his fists. When he brought his hungry mouth to hers, tongue plundering deep inside.  
  
Didn't resist when he pulled her to the ground…  
____________________  
  


  
Angel woke with a start. The dream so fresh in his mind, he could still feel her. Taste her.  
  
His mind raced, images weaving through ever corner, feeding his need. His hunger.  
  
Beneath the silk sheets, his body throbbed. Phantom sensation, dream memories, danced across his skin like whispers. Making every nerve ache. _Crave._   
  
Gasping for air he didn't need, he struggled into a sitting position. Pressed one trembling hand to his forehead.  
  
And was surprised by the ridges he found there.  
  
Squeezing his eyes shut, Angel tried to push through the emotions, the sensations, that were drowning him. Swamping him with a feeling close to panic.  
  
_What if I can't get close to her? What if she never wants me?   
  
What if she tries to fight me?_  
  
He forced himself to stop breathing, to stop moving. Begged his frantic thoughts to be still.   
  
With time, he found something like calm. His demon face receded. The images dancing like sparks through his mind became less vivid. His panic faded.  
  
But the longing remained.  
  
Feeling oddly exhausted, Angel fell to his back.   
  
Eyes still closed, his mind replayed the temptation of dream. It had felt so…so right.  
  
It still felt so right.  
  
But Angel shook his head. He knew it couldn't be that way. He had to move slowly. To take his time. To make Cordelia accept him again.   
  
He had to be patient.  
  
_Fuck patience!_  
  
No. He couldn't move too fast. He didn't want to scare her away.  
  
He didn't want her to be afraid of him.  


* * *

  
  
**PART FOUR  
**  
  
Yawning, Cordelia shifted in the hard, uncomfortable chair. She rubbed her tired eyes, careful not to damage her eye make-up. Not that it mattered. She'd been stuck in the library all night, and no one who'd appreciate proper eye shadow and mascara application was going to see her, anyway!  
  
She sighed and rested her elbow on the table, cradled her chin in her hand. She stared at Xander, who had his own musty book to yawn over.  
  
They'd come so close to an actual date. Not making out in her car, or hanging with their (mostly _his_, to be honest) friends at the Bronze or whatever. Nope, this was a special occasion. He asked her out to a movie, and pizza after. And _he_ wanted to pay.  
  
So, what happens? Well, this morning, half a dozen mauled bodies are found in various parks and cemeteries in the general vicinity of the high school. The Sunnydale PD—who manage to keep a lid on things until an unnamed source gives an interview for the evening edition—blames the attacks on unidentified "animals". Giles concludes something new and deadly is in town, and they _had_ to identify what Buffy might be up against. A call goes out for the Scoobies to assemble. And here they are!  
  
Rolling her eyes at the un-fun fest her life had become, Cordy glanced at Willow. The redhead was at the computer, a faint smile on her lips as she happily typed away at the keys. No doubt hacking into wherever for clues to narrow down the search. Because there were a _lot_ of creatures that liked to maul things.  
  
Oz seemed content to sit next to her and leaf through the book that rested on his lap.  
  
Giles was in his office, on the 'phone, trying to connect with someone who knew about similar incidents.  
  
_And I'm bored,_ Cordy thought. She added a name to the long list of Things That Like To Tear People Apart, and closed her book. Finally!  
  
The library doors flew open, and Buffy Summers made her usual, dramatic entrance. "We're back!" she announced to the room.   
  
Angel entered behind her, as quiet and dark as a shadow.  
  
"Buffy?" The Watcher exited his office. "Did you encounter anything out of the ordinary?"  
  
"Nope." The Slayer shook her head. "Just your normal, run-of-the-mill vampires."  
  
"Anybody else think it's scary that we think vamps are normal?" Xander asked. He cast a glance towards Angel. "And mill-runny?"  
  
"Hey, I found some stuff!" Willow exclaimed. And she sounded way to cheerful. "According to the autopsy reports, whatever attacked the victims was big. Like, man-sized big."  
  
"So," Buffy said, "we can cross dog-sized and breadbox-sized bitey thingies off the list."  
  
"Yeah. Also, from the bite marks, it looks like each victim was attacked by a single…um, thingy."  
  
Giles nodded with satisfaction. "Meaning, we can eliminate creatures that attack their victims in packs."  
  
"Whoa!" Xander reared back in his chair. "_That_ dredges up some bad memories I've managed to repress."  
  
Cordelia frowned at him. "I thought you said you didn't remember that whole hyena pack deal."  
  
Which made Xander look really uncomfortable.  
  
"But," Willow added, "the coroner thinks at least two 'animals' are responsible for the attacks."   
  
"So, a couple of beasts who maybe like to hang out," Oz suggested, "but don't like to share."  
  
"Yes." Giles looked thoughtful. "A creature and its mate, perhaps?"   
  
As Willow revealed other fun facts from the autopsy reports, and the list of suspects narrowed down even more, Cordy yawned again. She was so tired. And not just from all the research. After that thing last night, when she thought she saw someone outside her bedroom window, she just couldn't get to sleep. Because, even though she _knew_ there was no one out there, she couldn't get rid of the _feeling_ that there _was_.   
  
She finally had to pull out a book and read until she dropped off.  
  
Putting a hand to the back of her neck, Cordelia massaged her stiff muscles. Turned her head from side to side.  
  
And looked straight into Angel's black/brown eyes.  
  
After arriving in the library, the vampire had disappeared into the deepest, darkest corner, which was pretty typical. And he hadn't said a single word. Also typical.  
  
What _wasn't_ typical was him staring at her.  
  
Frowning, Cordy waited for him to glance away. That's what most people did when they were caught staring at her. It was what _Angel_ usually did.  
  
But Angel didn't glance away this time. Didn't look at all embarrassed or ill at ease. He just…stared. His black gaze steady. His face devoid of expression.  
  
It was Cordelia who looked away. Who felt uncomfortable. Uneasy.  
  
"Thank you, Willow." Giles smiled at the computer whiz. "That shortens the list a great deal. Buffy," he said to the Slayer, "I need to speak to you for a moment." And he turned towards his office.  
  
"Hey, wait!" Cordy exclaimed, realizing her chance was about to slip away. "I finished my book, Giles. So, I guess that means I can…"  
  
"Start on another." The librarian handed her a slip of paper. "These should prove useful."  
  
Cordy groaned. It was a list of five book titles.   
  
As Buffy and Giles disappeared into the office, Xander smirked at his girlfriend. "That's why I read really, really slow," he said.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Cordy stood up and disappeared into the stacks.  
  
The sad part was, Cordelia knew where all the weird books on Giles's list were. Eyes narrowed, she looked from the list to the bookshelves. Now, which one of these books was the thinnest?  
  
"Try this one," a voice said from behind her. And an arm appeared on her right side.  
  
Startled, Cordy took a step back…and slammed into the large, cool body behind her.  
  
With a shocked gasp, Cordy jumped forward. Spun around.  
  
Angel was standing there. Face expressionless. Looking at her like he hadn't just scared 10 years off of her life.  
  
"This one," he repeated, and held the book out to her.  
  
For a long moment, Cordy stared at him in disbelief. True, she didn't know Angel all that well. But it didn't take a bosom buddy to know he was acting weird even for _him_.  
  
_What's your damage?_ she almost asked. But didn't. Something stopped her. Maybe it was the way his gaze flickered across her face. From her eyes. To her mouth. Back again.  
  
Maybe it was the way he was too close…and took a step towards her that brought him even closer.  
  
Cordy stepped back, until her body was pressed against the bookshelves.  
  
Still holding out the book, he watched her with curious eyes.  
  
"Um, th-thanks," she said. She took the book, and waited for him to move so she could get by. But he didn't. Instead, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his duster and just…stood there. Staring at her.  
  
Cordy cradled the book to her chest, and felt her heart pound against the hard cover. What the hell was wrong with him? Was this some kind of weird, vampire thing? If so, it was creeping her out.  
  
"_Excuse_ me!" she said, putting a little Queen C sharp into it.  
  
And, with the faintest of smiles, he stepped off to the side.  
  
With a sigh of relief that she would never admit to, Cordy hurried past him.  
  
She could feel him, right behind her. A pressure against her back.  
  
As she went down the steps to the main floor of the library, Giles and Buffy left the inner office.  
  
"Angel and I will do another patrol," the blond said. "The night's still young. And who knows. We might still run across something."  
  
"That's a good idea," Giles mumbled, his real attention on the book is his hands. "Be careful."  
  
"It's my middle name," Buffy said. The skeptical looks she received from around the room made her smile with chagrin. "Most of the time. See ya, guys." Then she nodded towards Angel (which seemed to be the 'follow me' signal) and started towards the door.  
  
Angel walked around Cordelia, body brushing against hers as he passed.  
  
As the Slayer and the vampire left the library, Cordelia returned to her seat, and opened the book.   
  
It was fifteen minutes before her confused mind could focus on the words printed on the page.  
____________________  
  
  


Finally, Giles let them go. Just when Cordy was about to mention child-labor laws, and cruel-and-unusual punishment.  
  
"We'll continue tomorrow afternoon," he said as they filed out of the library.  
  
Cordy couldn't _wait_.  
  
Cordelia dropped Xander off at his house.  
  
"You're not off the hook, buddy," she told him. "We're still going out on that date. And _you're_ still paying."  
  
"Yes, Mistress Cordelia," he grumbled. But he didn't get out of the car without a kiss or two.  
  
How someone with no social life before _her_ had gotten so good with the smoochies, she'd never know. And she wasn't about to complain.  
  
Finally, Cordy went home. Parking her sporty red roadster in the circular driveway, she stumbled out of her car. She was so tired, all she could think about was jumping into bed and…  
  
"Cordelia."  
  
The girl's startled shriek cut through the night. As a dog barked in a neighbor's yard, she spun around.  
  
Angel was standing there, just a few feet away.  
  
"Damn it!" Cordy exclaimed. Her heart pounded in her chest. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"  
  
The vampire shrugged. "After I walked Buffy home, I decided to keep patrolling. I saw you drive up, and thought I should make sure you got into your house okay."  
  
Cordy put her hand to her heart and took a deep, calming breath. It made sense. She supposed.  
  
"Fine!" she snapped. She glared at him. "But don't scare me like that _ever_ again!"  
  
Eyes steady on her flushed face, the vampire nodded.   
  
Rolling her eyes, Cordy stalked up the front walkway, Angel hard on her heels.  
  
Cordy took the keys out of her purse, and opened the front door. "Well, thanks," she said grudgingly. And started to step inside.  
  
Suddenly, Angel grabbed her upper arm. Yanked her back, towards him.  
  
"What?!" Cordy demanded, as she staggered on the porch. Snatching her arm out of his grasp, her hazel eyes stared daggers at him.  
  
But Angel didn't see. Instead, he was looking through the open door. "I thought I…felt something."  
  
Cordelia's first instinct was to scoff. To tell him to just…back off. Because with last night, and tonight, and everything, she was starting to feel…crowded.  
  
Then, she remembered his vampy senses. How he could see, hear, and maybe feel things normal people couldn't.   
  
A shiver raced up her spine as she glanced inside. Was he trying to say someone—some _thing_—was in her house? "What is it?"  
  
"Is anyone else home?" Angel asked.  
  
"Well, Mrs. Armstead," Cordy answered. The housekeeper was probably asleep by now. "What's wrong?" she demanded.  
  
"I'm not sure. Maybe nothing," Angel said. Then he looked at her, his eyes serious and concerned. "I should probably look around, though. Just to be sure."  
  
Cordy almost stopped breathing. She looked at him, then quickly looked away. She thought of all the people who'd invited Angel into their homes. Buffy. Giles. Willow.  
  
They all paid the price when Angelus came out to play.  
  
Angel stood there, watching her, waiting patiently. Like he knew what she was thinking. He probably did.  
  
Uncertain, Cordy glanced inside once again. What if there _was_ something in there? Who would she rather have at her side when she confronted it? A kindly but distant housekeeper? Or a well-muscled, super-strong, battle-ready vampire?  
  
To the practical part of her, there was no contest.  
  
"I guess…" she finally said. Then, she shrugged. "Come in, Angel."  
  
With a nod, the vampire stepped through the door of the Chase residence.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, Cordy followed him inside.   
  
Angel walked through the lower level, head tilted to the side as he listened for something she'd never be able to hear.   
  
He did a quick sweep upstairs. Seemed to pause when he opened her bedroom door. Eyes taking in every detail, every nuance.  
  
But Cordy knew this was her imagination. Having a relative stranger look into her most private place, where she kept her most private things, was kind of weird.  
  
By the time they reached the foyer, the worry was gone from his eyes.  
  
"Like I said," he commented, "probably nothing."  
  
"Yeah," Cordy nodded. Feeling awkward, she opened the front door. "Well…good night."  
  
Angel graced her with one of his rare, small smiles. "Good night." And he stepped outside.  
  
Cordelia closed the door. Turned the deadbolt.  
  
_What a night,_ she thought with a long sigh. _Weird on top of weird._  
  
Shaking her head, Cordy started up the stairs.  
  
And uneasiness fluttered, like nervous butterflies, in the pit of her stomach.  
____________________  
  
Angel returned to his spot. It was where he'd spent all of last night. Where he'd remained, gazing up at her window, until false dawn lit the sky.  
  
Where he'd be tomorrow night. And the next. And the next.  
  
Arms folded, he leaned against the tree. He felt so…relieved, to the very core of his being. Free, somehow.  
  
She'd invited him in. The barrier was gone.  
  
He supposed he could have gotten the invitation from anyone. From the housekeeper. Or Cordy's parents, once they got home from wherever they were.  
  
But the fact that it was Cordelia who invited him in seemed more fitting. More…right.  
  
Just then, her bedroom light came on. Angel watched her silhouette move past the window.  
  
His dead heart seemed to clench in his chest.  
  
"Good night, Cordy," he whispered.   


* * *

  
  


**PART FIVE  
**  
  
Hand pressed to her mouth, Cordelia yawned. Blinking tears from her tired eyes, she staggered through the doors of Sunnydale High.   
  
_This is all Angel's fault,_ she thought…and didn't notice that her angry glare sent a nervous freshman—Ronny something or other—scurrying in the opposite direction.  
  
It was hard enough getting to sleep the night before last, when some trick of the moonlight made her think she saw someone outside her bedroom window. But then, last night, Angel comes along with his "Hey! I think there's some big, slimy _thing_ with 3 eyes and pointy teeth in your house."  
  
Okay, so he didn't use those exact words. But that was what she saw every time she closed her eyes. It must have been at least 1 a.m. before she finally fell asleep.  
  
Was it any wonder she felt like a zombie this morning?  
  
With a weary sigh, she pushed through the library doors.  
  
Buffy and Willow were the only ones there. The blond sat on the counter, the redhead leaned against it. Both looked fresh-faced, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Ready to face whatever the day had in store.  
  
It was sickening.  
  
They also seemed lost in a conversation too interesting for them to notice her entrance. Lucky for them, she was too tired to be insulted.  
  
"Well," Willow was saying, "Angel isn't exactly Mr. Motor Mouth."  
  
"I know, Will," Buffy said. "He's not big with the talkies. Which I'm used to, believe me. But he doesn't have to talk for me to know he's listening. You know?"  
  
_Of course,_ Cordy thought. Listlessly, she dropped into a chair. _Another chapter in the Slayer and Her Souled Vamp Love Saga. Volume 2._  
  
"I've never known anyone who just…listens, like Angel does," Buffy continued, "When I'm with him, it's like there's nothing else in his world. But, last night, I don't think he heard a word I said. His mind was a million miles away."  
  
"Or maybe a couple of centuries?" Willow suggested.  
  
"Maybe," Buffy agreed. And, as always, even a hint of Angel's past seemed to make her uncomfortable. "Whatever it is, there just seems to be something…different about him."  
  
_Which might explain why he was lurking around my house last night,_ Cordy thought…and would have said out loud if she wasn't so busy yawning. Again. She just wasn't any good without the full eight hours. And she'd been sleep deprived for 2 nights straight. Not only did she not feel 100%, she also didn't look her best. Which was the real tragedy.  
  
She _so_ should have skipped today. After all, she was a senior. Didn't she have the right?  
  
Folding her arms, she put her heavy head down on the desk. Wait a minute! There was something she'd wanted to say. She just had to remember what that was.  
  
Just then, the library doors swung open.  
  
"Good morning, fair maidens!" Xander said. He grinned at Buffy and Willow. "Boy, I feel great today. Can't remember when I had a better night's sleep!"  
  
Cordelia lifted her head and glared at him. As if, somehow, he'd stolen the sleep that belonged to _her_.  
  
Still grinning like an idiot, Xander turned towards her. "Hey, Cordy! You look…" Then, his eyes took in her tired face and puffy eyes. "Um…"  
  
Her cold-stare-of-death was enough to make him clamp his lips shut.  
  
"Nemar demons," Giles said as he exited his office. The Watcher also looked well-rested. Much to Cordy's disgust.   
  
"What's a nemar demon?" Willow asked. Then, excitement lit her eyes. "Ooh, is it some new nasty? Do you want me to look stuff up?" She took a step towards the computer.  
  
"That won't be necessary, Willow," Giles said. "Nemar demons are responsible for the killings reported in yesterday's paper."  
  
The Slayer hopped off of the counter. "And you know this how?"  
  
"There was a similar string of murders in Canada roughly ten years ago. But, in that case, there was one survivor. And the creatures the victim described were definitely nemar." Giles shook his head. "The authorities thought the poor fellow was quite mad, of course."  
  
Cordelia shivered. That was definitely a fear. That, with all the weird stuff she saw every day, she'd blurt something out in front of her parents, for example, who'd think she was a complete nut case.  
  
"In any event," Giles continued, "the evidence collected by the Sunnydale Police Department, coupled with the autopsy reports, have convinced me that the creatures that struck night before last were also nemar."  
  
"So, how do I kill these neener things?" Buffy asked.   
  
"Nemar," Giles corrected. "And you don't."  
  
Buffy gave him a puzzled frown. "And I say 'huh?'"  
  
"Well, if I'm correct, both creatures are dead by now. The fact that no bodies have been found this morning makes it a near certainty."  
  
"And that clears it all right up," Xander said. A sentiment echoed on the faces of the three girls.  
  
Giles took a moment to give the teen A LOOK before explaining. "Nemar don't attack humans. They feed, once or twice a week, on wild animals, sometimes livestock, the occasional pet. And they spend the rest of their time sleeping. But when a mated pair are about to die—which they invariably do together because of their link—they go into a frenzy. They are attracted to supernatural energies, like those emitted by the Hellmouth. They become extremely violent. They will attack anything that crosses their path. In this case, humans. Eventually, they turn on each other. And, once one nemar is dead, the other goes as far underground as possible to die itself."  
  
Silence dropped, like a stone, into the library.  
  
"So," Buffy said, voice dull with disbelief. "There's nothing I can do?"  
  
Giles gave her a sympathetic look. "No. Nothing."  
  
Which, to Cordy, sounded like a good. The problem had taken care of itself. If only _all_ of Sunnydale's demon problems were that easy to deal with.  
  
But Buffy didn't look happy. There was probably some Slayer instinct telling her to make _something_ pay for the people found dead yesterday morning.  
  
Cordy could relate. She'd turned 'getting even' into an art form.  
  
"This is good, Buffy," Willow insisted. "It means these nemar things can't hurt anyone else."  
  
"And no research session this afternoon," Cordy interjected.  
  
Everyone turned to stare at her.  
  
"What?" the brunette demanded. "Like we weren't _all_ thinking it."  
____________________  
  
Cordelia stood in the center of his bedroom, bathed in the golden glow from the fireplace. Dressed in red silk. Blood lace.  
  
She stood before him. Hazel eyes filled with love. And acceptance. And invitation.  
  
With one slender, graceful hand, she pushed her long, mahogany hair over her left shoulder. Closed her eyes. Turned her head to the side.   
  
Bared her throat to him.  
  
"I can't," he said. "You know I can't." But he didn't pull away. He leaned closer.  
  
"I want this, Angel," she sighed. Eyes still closed, neck still bared, her voice was husky and sweet. "I want to be inside you."  
  
Angel stared at her long, slender neck. At the pulse that beat there.   
  
He wanted to taste her.   
  
It was a desire he'd had for longer than he cared to admit. One he'd learned to ignore if not deny. To suppress if not destroy.  
  
But the hunger roared to the surface. The need to feel her blood—only hers—on his tongue. To savor its sweetness. To feel its warmth slide down his throat. The need burned like hot honey through his veins. Filled him to the core.  
  
Angel grabbed her upper arms. Stepped closer to her patiently waiting form. Brought his lips to within an inch of her sun-kissed skin.  
  
God, he wanted to taste her.  
  
And he couldn't remember why he shouldn't.  
____________________  
  
Angel doused cold water on his face. The crisp, sharp feel of it cleared away some of the fog that clouded his mind.  
  
He glanced up at the bathroom mirror. And wished he could see his reflection there. If he could, what would he see? Loneliness. Longing. Desperation.  
  
Impatience.  
  
Running a damp hand through his hair, he closed his eyes and re-lived the dream.   
  
The first had been a temptation.  
  
This one? This one was nothing but frustration.  
  
Because, as his dream-self leaned forward, the moment his fangs grazed her tender, pliant flesh…  
  
He woke up.  
  
"Damn it!" Angel growled. He banged angry fists against the cold, porcelain sink. For half an hour, he'd lain in bed, eyes squeezed shut, begging slumber to re-take him. To take him back to the dream. To that moment.  
  
But sleep eluded him. Even as the images grew more vivid, more solid as he replayed them again and again in his mind, he couldn't recapture the feelings of it.  
  
Angel glared at the mirror. Almost gave in to the urge to smash his fist into it. To watch it shatter, just like the dream had. To watch his blood—like red silk and lace—trail down the glass.  
  
With bitter humor, he remembered what he told the sorceress.  
  
"I'll wait."  
  
And he would have. If he'd arrived before Cordelia was born, he would have waited for her. Five years. Ten. Twenty.  
  
But she was here. Whole. And alive. And flesh. And, with every moment, waiting seemed more impossible. Patience seemed harder to hold on to.   
  
How could he not touch her? Hold her?   
  
How could he not?  
  
And, with every moment, it grew stronger. The voice, the urge, that asked with soft certainty,  
  
_What are you waiting for?_  
____________________  
  
As far as Cordelia Chase was concerned, afternoon naps were for toddlers and the elderly. Oh, and her mother.  
  
But, the minute she got home from school, she collapsed onto the bed, and was asleep before her head settled on the pillow.  
  
When she woke, it was already dark outside.  
  
Cordy glanced at the clock, and realized she was late.  
  
"For the Bronze," she muttered. "Big whoop."  
  
Since their demon problem—well, one of them—had taken care of itself, everyone but her had decided to spend the evening at the club. And, according to the clock, Xander and the rest of their wacky gang were already there.  
  
"Fashionably late is always good," she yawned. Pushing herself out of bed, she staggered towards the bathroom.  
____________________  
  
Again, Angel glanced towards the entrance.  
  
It seemed the Bronze was a popular spot tonight. The door never rested. It opened again and again to admit a new stream of fun-seekers. It seemed like everyone in town was here tonight. Everyone except her.   
  
And her absence was like a scream in the back of his mind.  
  
"Angel?"   
  
Reluctantly, the vampire turned towards Buffy.  
  
"Who are you looking for?"  
  
He frowned. "What?"  
  
"Well, you keep looking at the door," the Slayer continued. "I was wondering if you were waiting for someone."  
  
"No. No-one." And his eyes went back to the entrance.  
  
"Hey, pal," Xander said. "Don't hog the conversation. I mean, we'd like to get a word in edge-wise here."  
  
"Xander," Willow sighed. From the corner of his eye, he saw the redhead's elbow poke the teen in the ribs.  
  
On stage, Dingoes Ate My Baby started another song. And the volume didn't invite intimate conversation. Or more questions.  
  
But Angel knew Buffy was watching him. Could almost feel the worry in her eyes as she wondered what was wrong with him.  
  
Angel knew he was acting strange. He'd meant to act more…normal. To act the way he remembered himself being. But he just couldn't seem to do it. To play that part. All of his energy was focused on the door. On not getting up to pace a trench in the floor.  
  
Where was she? He'd only come because she was supposed to _be_ here.  
  
After she got out of school, Buffy came by the mansion to tell him about the nemar demons. And to subtly invite him—which meant she'd mentioned everyone was going, so he'd see them if he decided to show up—to the Bronze.   
  
She was supposed to be here.  
  
"I guess C.C. isn't coming," Xander said over the driving music. A hint of disappointment tinted his voice. "She said she might not. Probably stayed home to exfoliate or something."  
  
Angel's hands clenched into fist. Frustration clawed at his chest.   
  
What if she _wasn't_ coming? What if she'd decided to stay home?  
  
_I could have been there with her. Near her. Instead, I'm wasting my time sitting here._  
  
"I have to go," he said suddenly. He stood so abruptly, the chair rattled as it skittered back.  
  
"Go?" Buffy asked. "What? Why?"  
  
"I…" But he couldn't spare the energy to come up with an explanation. "I have something to do."  
  
He heard Buffy call his name as he walked away. But he didn't stop. Instead he disappeared, like a shadow, into the crowd.  
___________________  
  
  


Cordelia hated nights when the Bronze was packed. If you didn't get there early…  
  
"You have to park two blocks away," she grumbled. With a roll of her eyes, she parallel parked her red roadster. Why did everyone feel they had to drive everywhere, taking up precious parking space? Didn't anyone believe in _walking_ anymore?  
  
With a sigh, Cordy got out of her car. She took a fashionable, black enamel perfume mister out of her purse. It was guaranteed to cover the maximum amount of skin with a fine spray of the expensive eu de cologne of your choice.   
  
At the moment, it was filled with holy water. Because she was a little tired, not stupid.  
  
She walked towards the Bronze, careful to keep away from dark shadows and alley entrances. Her eyes scanned the street for anyone or anything suspicious.  
  
She wasn't prepared for the something that swooped down on her from the roof of Store-N-Save.  
  
One scream was all she got out before her body was slammed into the brick wall of the building. As she slumped to the ground, reality faded. Darkness reached up to claim her.  
  
She never got the chance to use her spray.  
_______________________  
  
Rage clouded Angel's vision. A haze of red and black.  
  
A wrathful growl rumbled in his chest.  
  
He grabbed the vampire away from Cordelia's still, unconscious form. Tossed it through the air like it was nothing.  
  
Within seconds, before the creature could even think to get up, Angel was on it. Slamming a stake through its heart. Snarling at the ashes that fell to the hard, concrete sidewalk.  
  
In an instant, the vampire was forgotten.  
  
Panic raced through him, tried to force his dead heart to beat, Angel ran to Cordelia, kneeled. His hand trembled as he laid it on the smooth warmth of her shoulder. As he gently turned her over onto her back.  
  
"Cordy?" he gasped, eyes roaming frantically over her body. Checking for injuries. Desperate for her to be okay.  
  
She didn't stir. Her eyes remained tightly shut. But her breathing was even. Her heartbeat, faster than normal from fright, was steady.  
  
His eyes went to the gash on her forehead. To the trickles of blood that painted her skin. Like red tears.  
  
He stared at the blood, mesmerized. The street disappeared as memories of the dream filled his head.  
  
Cordelia, baring her throat to him. Offering him…everything.  
  
And every fiber of his being screamed for him to take it. To forget about patience and waiting and just…  
  
The sound of distant laughter snapped him out of his reverie. He remembered that, on a Friday night, with the Bronze open and thriving, this was a busy street.  
  
Angel lifted her body from the punishing concrete. Standing, he paused. Closed his eyes, and allowed himself a moment to just…feel her. To feel the warmth of her body against his. The softness of her skin. The silk of her hair tickling his chin.  
  
Angel opened his eyes and glanced towards the Bronze. Where her friends waited.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, he carried Cordelia to her car.  


* * *

  
  
**PART SIX  
**  
  
Angel laid Cordelia's unconscious form on his bed. And instantly missed the feel of her in his arms. For one long moment, he hovered there, almost gave in to the urge to pick her up again. But he shook his head. There was time. Plenty of time.   
  
Instead, he arranged her body so she'd be the most comfortable. Head positioned just so on his pillow, so she wouldn't get a crimp in her neck. Hands crossed atop her chest. Shoes off and carefully placed, side-by-side, on the floor.   
  
Finally, he stood back. Let his eyes wander from her head to her toes, and back again. Took notice of how pale even her sun-kissed skin looked against the black silk sheets.   
  
Only then did he allow himself to think.  
  
Until now, he hadn't been. Not really. Hadn't made a single, conscious decision since he saw Cordelia—_his_ Cordy—being attacked outside the Bronze. All of his actions had been…instinct.  
  
Carrying her to her car. Searching through her purse for the keys. Starting the engine. Driving to the mansion.  
  
All instinct. Fueled by the realization that he could have lost her. Again.  
  
The sting of grief like a fire in his chest, Angel sat on the edge of the bed. It had all made so much sense. He would be patient. He would wait. Let her get to know him again.  
  
To love him again.  
  
But his patience grew thinner every time he saw her. Touched her. It started to crumble, like a brick wall constantly battered by temptation and frustration. By need.  
  
Then tonight. If he hadn't left the Bronze when he did…  
  
And what would his patience have been worth then?  
  
Angel reached towards her. Let his fingers brush across the shallow gash that adorned her forehead. Across the drying blood. The feel of her warm breath against his palm made his hand tremble.  
  
Instinct. To take her away from the place where she'd been attacked. To bring her to his home. His _territory_. Where he could protect her.  
  
Of course, the question was, what to do now? What would he do when she woke up, demanded to know why he had brought her to the mansion? When she tried to leave?  
  
_It's not too late,_ a rational voice whispered at the back of his mind. _You can take her back. Take her to the ER. Tell Buffy and the others that you saved her from a vamp attack. Took her to the hospital for treatment. Then, you can go back to doing things the way you intended. The way you **should**_.  
  
But there was another voice. Louder. More passionate.  
  
_And what? You'll go back to waiting. To watching her house every night, and making excuses to be near her. To touch her. Waiting for her to stop being afraid of you. To care about you._  
  
Back and forth the two voices argued. An inner struggle that should have torn him apart with worry and indecision.  
  
But none of it mattered. Because she was _here_.  
  
Angel lay down beside Cordelia. Turning towards her, he draped his arm across her waist. Rested his head in the crook of her neck. Let her warmth and scent surround him. And sighed as the grief seemed to bleed away.   
  
As the feel of her in his arms became more real, he felt as if a weight was being lifted. Ever since…the alley, he had only slept a few hours a week. Afraid of the dreams that made him relive that night again and again.   
  
Even here, where the dreams were so enticing he'd wanted to lose himself in them, his slumber had been fitful. The dreams themselves far from restful.  
  
Now, a wave of exhaustion crashed over him. He pressed his lips against the smooth skin of Cordelia's slender neck. Closed his eyes. And felt something almost like contentment.  
  
Almost like because he could feel need, like a burning ache, in the pit of his stomach. Growing as her closeness pulled at him.  
  
But, for now, he just wanted to hold her.  
  
Arm tightening across her waist, he let his consciousness drift away.  
____________________  
  
  


It was like surfacing. Swimming through a pool of ink black water, up towards a dull, blue light.  
  
The first thing she became aware of was the throbbing. Like a small headache, concentrated on the left side, near her forehead.  
  
And the weight. There was a weight on her right side, pressing down against her.  
  
Still half awake, she frowned. What the…?  
  
And, suddenly, the memory returned. An ice cold flash through her groggy mind.  
  
The vamp swooping down on her, like a cheap Dracula imitation.   
  
Her body slamming into the wall.  
  
The world spinning.  
  
Cordy gasped as her eyes popped open. Prepared to see the deserted street outside the Bronze. The vampire, fangs bared, leering down at her.  
  
Instead, she saw a ceiling.  
  
With that fact came another. Whatever she was laying on, it was much too soft to be concrete.  
  
Suddenly, someone moaned closed to her right ear.  
  
Cordy's head whipped to the side. And her eyes snapped wide.  
  
Angel?  
  
His head rested on the pillow next to hers, his eyes closed in sleep. He was the weight that pressed her into the mattress. His arm heavy across her waist. His leg draped across her own.  
  
Angel?  
  
Cordelia shook her head in disbelief, her mind unable to make since of it. Her eyes glanced around the bedroom. She'd never been to this room before but, from the décor, she figured they were at his mansion. So, why was _she_ here?  
  
Okay, since she was alive, she could assume Angel had saved her. After she got knocked out, but before she got chomped on.   
  
He'd saved her. But why did he bring her _here_?  
  
As she tried and failed to think of an answer, her mind drifted. She wondered if this vampire had met the same fate as the other. If Angel had sliced him to pieces, too.  
  
She shivered at the memory. And her heart thudded in her chest as other memories followed. Angel staring at her. Walking close behind her, like her personal shadow. Sneaking up on her in the library.  
  
And her house. Somehow, his showing up at her house didn't seem quite so innocent anymore.  
  
A groan drew her eyes back to Angel.  
  
"No," he muttered, as he frowned in his sleep. "Don't…no..."  
  
Cordy wondered what he was dreaming about. Why he sounded so bereft. So lost.  
  
Then, the restless vampire turned over onto his back.  
  
And Cordelia was free. And all she could think of was getting out of here. She could think about the weirdness of this whole situation—wonder why Angel did what he did—later. Leave now. And without the awkwardness of Angel waking up.  
  
Slowly, she sat up. And the throbbing in her head intensified.  
  
Gingerly, Cordelia touched her forehead. Felt the gash there, caked in dried blood.  
  
Something else to think about later.   
  
Eyes glued to the vampire, she eased out of the bed. And almost tripped over her shoes. Deciding the heels would make too much noise against the bare floor, she picked up the pumps.  
  
Cordelia hurried, swift but silent, across the room. With one last glance at Angel, she slipped out the door.  
____________________  
  
Angel woke with a start, dreams of blood and death fresh in his mind.  
  
He was alone. He was always alone when he woke from the nightmare. So, at first, the truth didn't register.  
  
Then he caught the scent of her. Of vanilla, and sunlight, and _Cordelia_. Too real to be his imagination. The scent lingered in the silk sheets, a memory that had already started to fade.  
  
And he remembered that she'd been here. That he'd brought her here, and why.  
  
And he realized she was gone.  
  
Frantic eyes darted around the room, even though he knew he wouldn't find her there. Panic slammed into him, like a fist to his heart. Screamed through his head, drowned out everything else.  
  
But even as fear invaded his body, sunk in and slithered through all the dark places, something else sprang to blinding life.  
  
Rage.  
____________________  
  
  


Cordelia walked away from the mansion, arms folded against the chill. Leaving had seemed like the sensible thing to do. Until she was out here. All alone. In the middle of the night. And walking alone in Sunnydale was _such_ the bad idea.  
  
She considered going back. Forgetting, for the moment, that Angel's behavior the last few days had sort of creeped her out. Creepy or not, she'd feel safer walking home if he was with her.   
  
With a sigh, she stopped. Turned.  
  
Then, she heard her name.  
  
_"Cordelia!"_  
  
It was a roar that ripped through the mansion. Tore into the night like claws. Animalistic. Hungry.   
  
Desperate.  
  
Suddenly, Cordy couldn't breath. Her heart leapt, like a frightened jackrabbit. Something primitive and small whimpered inside her. Froze her in place. The mansion towered over her like a living thing. Glaring and angry.  
  
There was a crash from inside. Like something breaking.  
  
And Cordelia ran. Hair whipping around her face. Heels sinking into the moist grass.  
  
She ran, panting from fear more than anything else. Blood rushed through her ears, so all she could hear was her own pounding heart.  
  
She ran, blindly. No idea where she was running _to_. Just that she had to get away from _here_.  
  
A powerful body slammed into her back, knocked her off balance. She would have fallen if not for the two powerful arms that wrapped around her body. Pinned her arms to her sides.   
  
The panic of being _caught_—_trapped_—shot through her. And Cordelia started to struggle. To scream and kick, the heels of her designer pumps pounding into his shins.  
  
"Let me go!" she exclaimed. "You…blood-sucking, undead…_freak_." And she struggled harder. Her hands clawed at whatever bare skin she could reach. Her head crashed into his chin.  
  
He was un-phased by it all. Didn't grunt once as her body battered against his. Didn't stagger or falter. He just held her, calm as he waited for the storm to pass.  
  
His body was like a brick wall, solid and unmovable.  
  
His legs were like polls planted in the earth. Solid and unshakeable.  
  
His arms were like two steel bands wrapped around her. Solid and unbreakable.  
  
"I won't let you leave me," he growled, close to her ear. "Not again."  
  
And, suddenly, he pulled her towards the mansion.  
  
Cordelia bucked and twisted, tried in vane to slip out of his grasp. Her shoes slipped off as her feet dragged through the grass.  
  
"No!" she screamed as he pulled her inside. "Let…go!"  
  
But her demands went unheeded. Instead, Angel pulled her towards the wall.   
  
Towards the chains.  


* * *

  
  
**PART SEVEN  
**  
  
Angel drug Cordelia across the room, seemingly unaware of her struggle to break free of him.  
  
As the wall drew closer and closer, Cordy studied the chains with frightened, hazel eyes. They were like something out of a medieval dungeon. Hanging from two sturdy bolts buried deep in the stone walls. A thick, steel manacle at the end of each length of chain.  
  
Angel had been shackled by those chains when he first got back from Hell. So they were strong enough to hold a half-crazed vampire.  
  
There was no way she'd be able to break free.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
"No!" she screamed, and instinct took over. Blinded by panic, she stopped struggling to get away from him. Instead, she somehow managed to turn towards him. Professionally manicured hands forming into claws, she reached for his face. His eyes.  
  
Powerful hands grabbed her wrists, squeezed until she was sure her bones would shatter. But she didn't stop. If she could just hurt him, somehow, then she could get…  
  
Suddenly, Angel pushed her away from him. And, for one long moment, she was floating. Twisting through the air.  
  
Her left side slammed into the wall. Her forehead hit stone with an audible CRACK.  
  
_Second time tonight,_ she thought groggily. Her legs collapsed and she slid to the floor, sitting down in an ungraceful heap. She groaned as pain shot across her brain, first here, then there. And her upper body begin to slump to the ground.   
  
"Oh, God," she heard Angel gasp. "Cordy!"   
  
Cool hands grabbed her shoulders, pulled her back into a sitting position.   
  
Cordy stared at him. Watched as he faded in and out of focus. His face was a study in guilt and remorse.  
  
"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice unsteady. "I'd never…I'd never want to hurt you, Cordelia."  
  
Even through the fog, her mind noticed the distinction. He didn't say he _wouldn't_ hurt her. Just that he didn't _want_ to.  
  
When the room tilted behind him, Cordy closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She focused on the pain, which helped clear away some of the fog. Feeling more alert, she opened her eyes.  
  
And found Angel staring at her forehead, his fingers digging into her shoulders. He seemed mesmerized by…something.  
  
And Cordy realized the cut she'd felt earlier was stinging. Had probably reopened when her head hit the wall. She could feel a whisper against her skin, trailing from the cut.  
  
Blood.  
  
Her heart leapt in her chest. Unstable vampire. Her blood on full display.  
  
Not a good combination.  
  
"So," she said, her voice a little loud. Anything to divert his attention. "Who's the lucky girl? I know Buffy wouldn't have been stupid enough to give you another happy. So, what happened? Been getting some on the side?"  
  
A confused frown creased Angel's intense brow. Then, as he seemed to catch her meaning, his expression cleared. The shadow of a smile, grim and bitter, quirked his lips. "I haven't lost my soul, Cordelia. If I had, I wouldn't"—like a physical blow, his eyes drilled into hers—"I wouldn't hurt this much."  
  
Cordy tried, but couldn't look away. His eyes were like two open wounds, lost and aching. She wasn't known for her ability to empathize with others. But even she could see it. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, his was in shreds.  
  
"Then why?" she asked, her voice shaking. "If you haven't gone all evil, why are you doing this?"  
  
"Because I love you."  
  
Cordelia's heart leapt in her chest. No-one had ever said that to her before. Not with such certainty. With such raw, naked emotion.  
  
And it terrified her. Sent a shiver racing down her spine.  
  
Cordy pressed her back into the wall. Tried to shrug his hands off of her shoulders. But he wouldn't let go.  
  
He wasn't going to let her go.  
  
"Look, this is crazy!" she exclaimed, a hysterical edge to her voice. "A few days ago, you didn't even notice me. You can't…"  
  
"I love you," he insisted, his voice as dark and wounded as his eyes. "And I can't live without you." His glance drifted towards the chains. "Not again."  
  
Eyes wide disbelief, she watched him reach towards one of the shackles. He was going to do this. He was really going to…  
  
Cordy didn't think. She just lunged towards him.   
  
Already off-balanced by his crouched position, his attention focused on the chains, he wasn't prepared. Her tackle sent him crashing to his back. His head smacked against the floor.  
  
Cordelia landed on top of him with an UMPH. Startled for a moment by her position, she froze, unsure what to do next. The sound of his moan, the vibration of it flowing from his chest to her hands, snapped her back to her senses. She started to push away from her.  
  
Lightening quick, despite the fact that he seemed a little dazed, his hands grabbed her arms.   
  
"No!" Cordy cried, as she slammed her knee into his groin.  
  
Angel let out a strangled moan. His hold on her slackened just enough.  
  
Feeling a moment's satisfaction, Cordy rolled off of him. Jumped to her feet.  
  
Pain exploded through her head. The room twirled around her. Darkness clouded the edges of her vision.  
  
With a startled gasp, Cordelia collapsed to her knees. Eyes squeezed shut, she took a deep breath and waited for the dizziness to pass.  
  
_Get the hell up, idiot!_ an inner voice screamed. _Get up and get out of here!_  
  
But the dizziness didn't pass. And the voice started to fade. Along with everything else.  
  
Slowly, she collapsed to the floor. The marble was cold against her cheek.  
  
As her consciousness slipped away, she heard a deep, rumbling growl.  
____________________  
  
Angel tossed Cordelia's unconscious form onto the bed, the gentle concern he'd displayed earlier all but gone.  
  
He glared down at her, his eyes angry gold. Fangs were revealed as his lips curled back in a snarl.  
  
Tears ran, unheeded, down his cheeks.  
  
A growl cut through the stillness of the room as he took a step towards the bed.  
  
_No!_ an inner voice exclaimed. _I can't touch her. Not now. If I touch her, I'll…_  
  
_Look at her,_ said another voice. _So beautiful. The most beautiful…_  
  
_She'll never love me now?_ another chimed in. _After what I've done? The only thing she'll ever feel for me is fear._  
  
It was a chorus of overlapping voices. A din that got louder and louder.   
  
Disconcerted, Angel staggered away from the bed. The voices were like nails, scraping across his skull. Slithering around under his scalp. Scattering every thought before it could take hold.  
  
_They'll realize she's missing. They'll come looking for her. They'll take her away. They'll take her…_  
  
_Hate. That's all she'll give me now. I never wanted her to be afraid of…_  
  
_Take her somewhere. Somewhere safe. I'm good at hiding. They'll never find…_  
  
Cordelia moaned.  
  
Angel's eyes snapped to her face. To the trickles of blood that seeped from the reopened wound.  
  
A hungry growl, low and longing, rumbled in his chest.  
  
_No! I could never…I wouldn't…_  
  
He could feel a part of him rebelling, horrified that he could ever think of touching Cordelia that way.  
  
Even as his tongue glided across the sharpness of his fangs.  
____________________  
  
Cordelia woke with a start. The memory of a sound echoed through her mind.  
  
It sounded like…slamming. Something slamming. A door?  
  
Slowly, mindful of her throbbing head, Cordelia sat up. She took a deep breath and let her head fall forward, until her chin rested against her chest.  
  
Disappointment coursed through her. She'd been so close to getting away. But no! Her stupid concussion, or whatever, knocks her off her feet before she could make her great escape.  
  
"This just isn't my night," she muttered.  
  
Swallowing the panic that tried to choke her, she studied her surroundings. She was back in the bedroom. And alone.  
  
She considered her options. There were the windows, which were covered with thick, damask curtains. She'd bet they were boarded over. Couldn't let the psycho vamp burst into flames while he's trying to catch some Z's.   
  
Even if the windows weren't boarded over, they were nailed shut. And, even if they weren't nailed shut, that was no guarantee she'd be able to get one open.  
  
The door was option number two. Maybe it wasn't locked. But she couldn't believe Angel would leave her in a room that was _that_ easy to get out of.  
  
As she tried to decide which was her best bet, her eyes continued to roam around the room. Searching for a weapon. Or something.  
  
She almost looked past the antique wardrobe. But her eyes caught a glimpse of something through the partially open door.  
  
Something familiar.  
  
"My purse!" she gasped.   
  
Cordy resisted the urge to jump off of the bed. Instead, she stood up as slowly as possible. The room hardly swirled at all this time.  
  
Fingers crossed, she made her way to the wardrobe. And her purse.  
  
She prayed her mister was inside.  
____________________  
  
Angel paced outside the door, hands fisting and un-fisting at his sides. An animal trapped in a cage.  
  
The cage was the part of him that was still rational. Rational enough to force him to leave the room. To try to get some kind of control over his raging emotions.  
  
But the voices still clashed inside his head, pushing control further and further away.  
  
Back and forth he paced. Back and forth.  
  
_I've lost her. I never had her. Not really. And I've lost her._  
  
_She'll never love me. I can lock her away from everything, until I'm all she has. And she'll hate me for it._  
  
He took a deep, unneeded breath. And was almost overwhelmed by the scent of Cordy's blood.  
  
It took him a moment to realize the scent was too potent to be coming through the door. It was close. Very close.  
  
He glanced down at his hand, at the smear of moist red. Vibrant crimson against his pale skin.  
  
He lifted his hand, eyes following its progress. Mesmerized.  
  
He breathed deep. Let the scent flood his senses. Closed his eyes. Pressed his hand to his lips.  
  
Sweet richness exploded inside his mouth. Memories flooded through his mind. Every sweet, beautiful memory Cordelia had ever given him.  
  
The voices in his mind ceased, leaving deafening silence behind.  
  
His jumbled emotions stilled, leaving perfect clarity in their wake.  
  
There was a way to make her love him. Stay with him. Because no matter how much they denied it, how much they fought it, rebelled against it…  
  
…A childe couldn't help but love their sire.

  


* * *

  
  
**PART EIGHT  
**  
  
"Damn!" Cordelia hissed as she banged her hand against the antique wardrobe. Dropping her purse to the floor, she sat back on her heels and let it out in one long sigh. Her mister wasn't there. Her beautiful, _expensive_ mister, filled to the brim with newly blessed holy water, was probably still on the sidewalk outside the Bronze. Where it was absolutely no use to her. "What? Did I inherit a bad luck fairy or something?"  
  
She could kick herself for not bringing a stake. But this purse wasn't big enough to hold one. And it was the only purse that went with this dress.   
  
Cordy closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips against her left temple. Her head throbbed. And she felt so tired. Like she could curl up into a ball and sleep for a week. Or forever.  
  
But, no. She had to think. To find a way to get out of here before Angel… Well, before he…  
  
Suddenly, the fear she'd managed to repress until now shot to the surface, swamped her in a sea of panic and dread. Slammed against her heart, which tried to pound it's way out of her chest.  
  
Cordelia's face crumpled. Her lips trembled. Her skin flushed fever hot, even as a chill made goosebumps spring up along her arms. A single sob escaped before she could choke it back. And for a moment, a fraction of an instant, giving up seemed so easy. So…tempting.  
  
But she was Cordelia Chase. And Cordelia Chase never gave up. If she did, who would she be then?  
  
So, she took a long, deep breath, and forced the fear back down. She straightened her back, bit her lip to make the trembling stop.   
  
There had to be a way out of here. And she'd find it.  
  
With a sharp, decisive nod, Cordy opened her eyes. As she wiped away the few tears that had managed to escape, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. A glint of light at the bottom of the wardrobe.  
  
"What?" Eyes narrowed, she moved closer. There was something there, snuggled in the corner. It looked like…a necklace?  
  
Curious despite her situation, Cordy lifted the necklace by its silver chain, held it up to the light. Admired the ornate silver pendent, at the center of which rested a brilliant, red crystal. As the pendent swung at the end of its chain, orange flames danced in the heart of the stone.  
  
"Wow," she breathed. "I like it."  
  
She held the necklace, a pool of silver and red, in her hand. It felt strange against the skin of her palm. Kind of…warm.   
  
Suddenly, the door crashed open.  
  
Cordy jumped, a startled gasp issuing from her lips. Her hand clenched in a fist around the necklace.  
  
Angel stood in the doorway, a shadow surrounded by shadows. Feral eyes stared at her from a bestial face.  
  
Cordy stopped breathing for a full second. Then, she was breathing too fast, in perfect rhythm with her racing heart.  
  
Slowly, using the wardrobe for support, she rose to her feet.  
  
"Angel," she whispered.   
  
He didn't speak. Just took a step into the room. And another. He moved with the grace of a predator. Hungry eyes scoured her body. Her face, her breasts, her hips.  
  
And always, his gaze came to rest on her neck.  
  
Cordy backed away from him. With each step she took, the further away her hopes of escape seemed to get.  
  
He was strength and power. Raw and savage. Timeless. Towering over her like a force of nature.  
  
And every thought she'd had about getting away from him seemed ridiculous. A stupid, childish fantasy. And, even if she did somehow manage to escape, where could she go? Where could she hide where he wouldn't find her?  
  
"Please," she begged, without meaning to. Hating herself for sounding so weak, but unable to stop. "Angel, please."  
  
To her surprise, Angel's steps faltered. He paused as something came over his demonic visage. Something vulnerable. Uncertain.  
  
There was a flicker of humanity in his amber eyes.  
  
"Cordy," he said, his voice quivering.  
  
And, for a second, her heart leaped with hope. Maybe something had happened to him. A spell or something. That was why he was acting this way. But he could snap out of it, right? If he still had his soul…  
  
"Cordy," he growled. And that flicker of humanity was gone.  
  
In a blur of motion he was across the room, arms wrapping around her like steel bands.   
  
"No," Cordelia gasped. "Please, no."  
  
She struggled as he buried his hand in her brunette hair. Wrenched her head to one side. Pressed his lips to her slender neck.  
  
She screamed when his fangs pierced her flesh.   
  
Cordelia's face froze in a rictus of pain. Her fists pounded at his chest, a vain attempt to push him away. Then, as her legs went limp beneath her, she instinctively clutched at his shirt with her free hand, an attempt to hold herself up.  
  
Cold spread through her body, filled her veins with ice. Surrounded by Angel's embrace, she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.   
  
Her eyelids fluttered, her face smoothed until it seemed almost serene.  
  
Slowly, her arms fell to her side.   
  
The pendent fell from her numb fingers.   
  
The necklace hit the marble floor. And, as the delicate crystal shattered, there was barely a whisper of sound.  
____________________  
  
Angel held Cordelia tighter to him. So tight, he could feel her heartbeat as if it were his own.  
  
His fist tightened in her hair. His fangs sank deeper into her flesh.  
  
And he drank. The salty, sweet taste caressed his tongue. Filled his mouth with warmth, and his mind with memories. Filled his body with…her.   
  
He felt her heartbeat slow against his chest. And he kept drinking. Too lost in sensation to notice the pendent lying next to his feet. The sparks that poured from the shattered crystal. Skittered across the floor and danced up his legs.  
  
He drank her in. Her scent, and smile, and laughter, and courage. All of her.  
  
Two rivulets of blood trickled down the soft skin of Cordelia's back. And were soon joined by the vampire's tears.  
  
But these weren't tears of sadness. He felt none of what he'd expected. Not guilt or remorse or shame. What he felt was almost too big for his body to contain. Almost too big for words.  
  
What he felt was…pure bliss.  
____________________  
  
  


Angel crashed to the ground.  
  
"Angel!" a young, feminine voice cried. "Oh, my God! Are you okay?"  
  
Gasping for air he didn't need, Angel pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.  
  
"Angel?" A pair of hands came to rest on his shoulders.  
  
Confused, Angel stared into Buffy's worried, green eyes.  
  
"Are you okay?" the Slayer repeated. "Because, one minute, you were walking. And, the next, you just, sort of…collapsed." She frowned. "Do vampires faint?"  
  
Still disoriented, Angel gave his head a hard shake. He didn't know what happened. One minute, he was walking behind Buffy through the park. The next…  
  
"Angel?" Buffy asked, her concern evident. And, as usual, the thought that he'd done something to make her feel bad filled him with guilt.  
  
As he tried to think of a way to explain what had happened to him—something he didn't understand himself—he heard a scream.  
____________________  
  
_Sometime before "Birthday"_  
  
  
"Everybody set?" Angel asked, putting on his black leather coat.  
  
"Just about," Fred said as she fiddled with her latest gadget. All Angel knew was that it started out as a Salad Shooter.  
  
"I'm good to go," Gunn said. He hoisted his homemade axe.  
  
"Wait! My dagger!" Wesley exclaimed. The boss of Angel Investigations all but skipped back into his office.  
  
"I still don't see why I can't go," Cordelia said. Sighing, she handed Angel a crossbow. "I mean, since this tip came from one of Wes's sources, I don't have any vision pain to worry about. Lorne's here to watch Connor. And, I mean, what have I been training for?"  
  
Angel inspected the crossbow with more care than was necessary. How could he explain it? The sense of unease he'd felt since he rose this afternoon.   
  
The dread that filled him when Wesley told them about the kyops demons that would go out hunting for their first meal as soon as they woke up from hibernation.  
  
The panic that swamped him when Wesley described the kyops. And the long, skewer-like protrusions that shot out from the middle knuckle of each hand.  
  
How could he explain the images that filled his mind? Of blood and pain. And the life fading from a pair of hazel eyes.  
  
How could he explain his certainty that this was one mission Cordy could _not_ go on?  
  
Cordy would have accused him of being overprotective. She would've insisted on going despite his misgivings. And nothing short of chaining her up in the basement would have stopped her.  
  
Lying was easier.  
  
"Like I said, I'd feel better if there was someone else here with Lorne and Connor. Just in case."  
  
"Okay," Cordy sighed again. "I guess I see where you're coming from." But she didn't look happy about it.  
  
"I'm ready," Wesley said as he exited his office.  
  
As the Angel Investigations team, sans one, trouped out the door, Angel felt a giant weight lift off of his shoulders. Maybe his fears were unfounded. But the fact that Cordy was staying at the hotel filled him with relief.  
  
This way, he knew she was safe.  
______________________  
  
_Otherwhere. Otherwhen._  
  
  
Frowning, Angelus studied her face. There were still no signs of life.  
  
_Or un-life,_ he thought, a grin twisting his lips.  
  
The vampire climbed onto the bed. Straddling her hips, he placed his hands on either side of her head.   
  
"Come on, darlin'," he said, an Irish lilt touching his voice for just a second. "The sun's set. Time for you to rise and shine."  
  
Cordelia's face remained a serene mask. Skin slowly paling beneath her tan. Lips stained red with his blood.  
  
God, she made a beautiful corpse.  
  
Sighing, Angelus sat back. Prepared to wait as long as it took.  
  
He wanted his face to be the first thing she saw when she woke.  
  
  
  
**THE END**


End file.
